The Argonian Slave
by ArgonianLick
Summary: Veria is a lusty woman. She's become an expert at seduction and concealment, but her lovers never stay for longer than a night. She lives day to day, working for her father, waiting for the next man to come along. Her world is turned upside down when she is taken prisoner by a band of murderers and thieves. VERY Explicit sexual content. Mature audiences ONLY.
1. Chapter 1

"Ah...AH! Uh...right there...come on..." Veria tried her best not to moan with the pleasure that threatened to come to full climax. If the night watch discovered them, it would spell trouble for them both. Veria's father would have her head if he knew about this, or any of her encounters for that matter. Balgrim was married, but he and Veria had lusted after each other for weeks, sending little messages with their eyes. A twitch of the brow, and accidental sweep of the hand. It didn't take either of them long to start imagining the other beside them in the night, faces flush with heat and bodies slick with passion.

It took even less time to rendezvous behind the shop. They couldn't wait any longer, and neither of them had safe places to have their way, so upon laying eyes on each other they threw down into an abandoned cart full of hay. Veria was still wearing her dress, but she was bare of any undergarments. It was a simple slip of the trousers and Balgrim was finally where she'd longed for him.

Her fingernails dug into the fabric of his expensive robes. She bit her lip to keep from moaning, and his jaw dripped with saliva as he clenched his teeth to do the same.  
"Come...come..." she breathed raggedly. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck as he got closer and closer to- "AH!" They both were struck silent at the climax. As always, it filled Veria with the feeling that she needed nothing. It filled her pores and elated her senses. It was perfect.

But something was missing. This moment, these fleeting seconds, needed something. Something more. Something harder.  
"OW!" Balgrim drew back suddenly, cutting the already brief ecstasy short. He swept a hand over he ear and neck. "What the hell?"  
"More," she said quietly, pulling him in again. "One more. Again. Please-""You bit me, you bitch!" He shoved her away.

He jumped off the cart and tucked his parts back into his trousers. Once he was righted again he glared at Veria.  
"If I see you again," he said. "You'll regret it."  
"Balgrim-"  
"Shove off, bitch."

Veria waited for Balgrim to disappear around the corner before getting out the cart. She was still quite damp, and he had left her in a very soiled state. She had to get home and clean herself without the guards noticing. It was an easy enough task for one as experienced in such matters as Veria. She darted from shadow to shadow, expertly evading any curious eyes.

Within a few minutes she was safe back home. Her father was fast asleep. She cleaned herself and climbed into bed without anyone noticing her little adventure into the midnight alleys of Windhelm. It was quite a feat, considering the distance between that alley and her home. She in fact had to get across town, over the bridge and to the farms without anyone noticing. She was fairly impressed with her own skill.

Veria stared at the ceiling and sighed. These men were all the same. Perfect for a night or two of pleasure, but the moment she tried to bite or claw or even lick they would shove her away and refuse to see her again. Had they been unmarried men she would have had a bit of a problem on her hands, but since revealing their nights with her would reveal their own treachery, they kept quiet.

She rolled over in bed and planned out her next move. Balgrim was over and done with. A shame, she would have liked to make a long affair of it. Dodging the guards and his wife, love in the hay and under the bridge. Maybe even chancing a night in his own bed, where his wife usually lay. It would have been fun. But alas, the lust between them was ended and now she had fewer options. It was risky to try laying with another man in town. Rumors might begin. Seducing an adventurer or traveling merchant would be easy enough, but they didn't come around often and they were often an unreliable sort.

Too tired now to think, Veria sighed and finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Veria sighed heavily. She finished off the final stitch of a luxurious robe her father had told her to finish. She held it up and admired her handiwork. The fabric was thick and quilted and dyed blue. The fur trimming was from a white mountain sabre cat that her father purchased a few weeks ago. The leather was pressed with a classic Nord design and fastened with a sturdy metal buckle, similarly decorated. One of the nobles in Valunstrad would surely pay well for it.

She sat back in her chair and surveyed the workshop. Fur, leather, and other fabrics littered the room. She'd been working for hours and as always her father was nowhere to be found. When she was a young girl, her father could always be found in the workshop. He used to sew the most magnificent clothes. He made everything from elegant robes for the wealthy to simple work clothes for the farmers and craftsmen. When Veria was old enough he began teaching her the craft. As her adeptness increased she would be burdened with more and more of the work. Eventually, by the time she was thirteen, she was doing all of the sewing while her father enjoyed the spoils. He drank away much of what gold they made, and Veria's own pay swiftly dwindled to nothing. When she went out to buy food she would often lie about how much each item cost in order to siphon away some money for herself.

"Where is the old goat now?" She muttered to herself, exasperated.  
She glanced out the window. It was late afternoon. He was probably lying on his back on the floor of Candlehearth Hall. Or maybe even the Cornerclub, if he'd already been kicked out of the Hall. Drinks are better there anyway. Either way he wouldn't be home for quite some time, and he would be sober until the at least the next day.

Which gave Veria plenty of time for a small escapade. Or perhaps a rather large one.  
She'd already seduced Borgrim, Torbjorn, that writer from Candlehearth Hall, even one of the city guards. Oh, he had been a fun one. She sneaked into his house one night and they did it right next to his sleeping wife. She had a condition where she would fall asleep randomly and not awaken for many hours no matter how loud you screamed at her. And oh, was there screaming.

She wanted another one. And soon. It had only been a day since her night with Borgrim but seducing anyone else from Valunstrad so soon might be trouble. She had not interest in the men working the farms. They were too far away from the city, too easy to get alone. She wanted a challenge. But where could she go? Who would be exquisitely hard to get?

A smile spread across her face as the answer dawned on her. She immediately folded up the unused materials, hung up the finished pieces, put away all her tools, threw on a cloak and hid away a small purse of coins in her pocket, just in case. Veria took a moment to choose the grandest fur lined cape in the shop and carefully folded it for traveling. Her father wouldn't miss it. It was likely he didn't even know Veria made it last week. He didn't keep tabs on the business anymore. With the gift under her arm, Veria set out across the bridge to the main gate of the city. Once inside, she made her way straight to the palace.

The palace. Veria didn't know why she had never thought of it before. If anyone was hard to get to, it was the men behind those walls. Or at least, that's what she had assumed. They seemed so high above her, and so far away. Behind those walls were the likes of kings and queens and war heroes. She was a simple seamstress. She never dreamed of going there at all.  
But the truth was that the main hall was accessible to all. The Jarl's throne stood there so anyone who needed to could speak to him. She could get in easily. From there it was merely a matter of movement and speech. The right walk, the right motion, the right tone, and they would be hers. They were only men, after all. And men were all the same, regardless of class or circumstance.

The only question was who. Who would she go after? There was Jorleif, the steward, but he seemed so easy, so unimpressive. There was Galmar Stone-Fist. She thought he would do. He was big man, and hardened by battled. He was less likely to shy away from a few scratches or bites. Veria thought about what he might be like under all that fur and metal. Muscular, most certainly. Veria imagined him naked, spread out under her. Inside her. She imagined him wet and large. Oh so very, very large. She felt the space between her legs grow a little warmer, and her mouth grow a little wetter. She licked the corner of her mouth and lifted her foot to take the climb the stairway to the palace door. She was ready. She was excited. She was hot, boiling.

"Veria!"

And now she was cold again.

"Veri-_hic_-eria..."  
She rolled her eyes and turned towards the source of the voice. If there was anyone who could kill her heat, it was her father. He swayed precariously at the top of the steps to the Gray Quarter. A bottle dangled from his fingers and he was flanked by two of his drinking buddies.

"Veria!" He yelled again with a drunken slur. "Whaddara doin outta the shop..."  
Veria trotted over to him and put on her most innocent face. "But father," she said in a girlish voice. "Don't you remember? You wanted me to deliver this cloak to the palace.""Palacmm?! I don't got no order from the palce..."  
"It wasn't an order father. You wanted me to take this cloak you made to Ulfric as a gift. I'm just doing it now. Unless of course...you've changed your mind?"

"Change my..." he glanced towards the men around him, then back to his daughter. "No! No I don't change my mind. Go give Ulfric his gift, like I told ya! And make sure he know's it frum me!"  
She smiled and took his shoulder. "Of course father, right way. But first let's get you to the Corner Club. Your drink is almost empty."  
"Yesm...you're a good girl, Veria."

Veria escorted her father down the stairs into the Gray Quarter. Once safely outside the door of the New Gnisis Cornerclub, she let him wobble towards the door himself. Now she was certain he wouldn't be home until dawn.  
Just in front of the door he suddenly turned around and shouted, "Make sure you give that present to Ulfric!"  
"Of course, father!" He nodded and disappeared inside.

Ulfric. The Jarl. She made her way back to the main road and pondered. Why not him? Yes, why not him? He was perfect. No one questioned him. He wouldn't brag of his sexual adventures to anyone. He was big, strong, and that voice. She'd only heard him speak a few times, but his voice sent shivers down her spine and into favorable places below her stomach. He would be the ultimate lay. The crown jewel of her accomplishments. If she got him to like her enough, he might even want to see her again and again. And his bed..._It must be so comfortable_, she thought.  
Her mind was made up. She'd seduce Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm. A great feat, with brilliant rewards.

She was so caught up in her imaginings of Ulfric that she accidentally bumped into a shoulder as she climbed the steps out of the Gray Quarter. She jumped back in surprise when the owner of the shoulder hissed at her in response. It was an Argonian. A group of them, in fact. What were they doing so far into the city? She had never seen one up close, and she found herself staring at the one she bumped into.  
"What are you staring at, human?" He hissed, revealing a row of sharp teeth and long reptilian tongue. She was lost for words, and quickly turned away and continued her way up the stairs before things got ugly. They weren't a kind species, from what she'd heard. They apparently liked to eat humans. Why Ulfric let them live by the docks was beyond her.

Even so, she glanced back at the retreated group of scaly creatures. She noticed that all of them had slightly different colored scales and horns. There was a thin one, a tall one, and one slightly shorter. She decided to turn back to the palace before she started a fight.  
_Although_, she thought with a small smile. _A fight might be fun_.

* * *

Upon entering the Palace of Kings Veria was stopped by two guards standing by the entrance.  
"Halt!" one said. "What business do you have with the Jarl?"  
Veria smiled and said, "I come bearing a gift for the Jarl, from my father."  
The guard grunted and said,"Very well."  
The two stood aside and let her pass into the great hall. The Palace of Kings was supposedly the oldest palace in all of Skyrim. The stone looked ancient but still incredibly sturdy.

There was a long table in the middle of the hall that was full of meats, soups, and other delicacies. The whole place was lit in the warm light of fire in torches and lamps. At the very end was her target, Ulfric, sitting on his throne discussing something with his steward. She approached slowly, expertly swinging her hips and shoulders to attract the attention of any male nearby. Jorleif immediately trailed away mid sentence as she approached. Easy, just like she thought. It took Ulfric a few attempts to get his attention. He waved him off and the steward shrunk away towards the wall where he disappeared through one of the doors.

"What is it, girl?" Ulfric said. His voice was deep and rough like gravel. Veria watched his mouth as he spoke. How she longed to play that mouth like a flute.

"Jarl Ulfric," she said in a respectful tone. "My father, Yorgrund, owner of The Silver Clasp on the edge of the city, asked me to deliver this to you. He wishes for the great honor of gifting you his finest fur cape in thanks for the great service you provide for the people of Windhelm."  
"Yorgrund?" he said. "Yes, I've heard of his work. I hear he's improved his craft substantially over the past few years."  
"He works tirelessly in the pursuit of perfection, my lord."  
"I see...I appreciate the gesture. It's good to my people are happy. I accept your father's gift, with thanks."

She took a step forward and held out the package to him. He grasped it with his hands but didn't pull it from her grip. He looked intently at her.  
"I am surprised your father didn't come himself," he said."He is a busy man, my lord," Veria replied. "But then...In truth," her voice grew a little quieter. "He didn't exactly send me himself." He touched his hand under the package and stood up a little straighter to accentuate her breasts.

Ulfrics iron grip suddenly wound around her upper arm, and the cape fell to the ground.  
"You think I don't know my own people?" He said. He was furious, but his voice was quiet. Veria's heart rate elevated in shock. She hadn't been expecting this.  
She began, "I don't underst-"  
"I know more than you think," he interrupted her. "Your father hasn't worked a full day in years. He spends his days in the taverns. And there are plenty of implications about what you've been doing with _your_ time." He pushed her away. "Now leave here, before you aggravate me more."

There was no use hiding it now. She was found out. She couldn't just give up, though. She took a step forward and played her curves at him.  
"But my lord," she said quietly so no one else would hear. "Surely you are cold in this old palace by yourself." She took another step toward him. "Surely you are lonely." Another step. "Surely you want a companion to keep you warm," she reached forward. "If only for one night." She touched his knee and whispered, "I ask for the honor of pleasuring you."

Ulfric stood, causing Veria to stumble backward. "Guards!" he hollered. "Take this young lady to the prison! Incarcerate her for a day. Perhaps she'll learn proper respect for her Jarl."  
Veria, completely taken aback, is swiftly overcome by two guards at either side. Each one holds her arm and drags her roughly off down the hall. They burst through a heavy set of doors and descended two flights of stairs. They took the stairs so fast and rough that Veria would have fallen if not for their grip on her arms. She finds herself falling face first into a dirty cell floor, followed by an ear-splitting screech of iron on iron. She looked up just in time to see the cell door close with loud bang. The guard locked her inside and walked away without a word.

"That didn't go as planned at _all_," she whispered to herself. Sitting up, Veria looked around her and assessed her situation. Not only had she completely failed to seduce Ulfric Stormcloak, but she'd somehow landed herself in jail for it.  
_I should have known it would take more than that to get to Ulfric_, she thought.

She leaned against the wall and thought about her situation. At least her sentence was only for a day. If she was lucky her father wouldn't even notice her absence. Dropping him off at the Cornerclub had been a good move. Still, she'd have to spend a full twenty-four hours in this filth, and she wasn't looking forward to it.  
Veria stood and inspected the only thing of interest in the cell: the door. She ran her finger down the iron bars and fingered the lock. She liked the feel of the rust and metal against her skin, but had no idea whatsoever what to do with the lock. Had she taken up thievery instead of sex as her hobby, she would certainly be able to pick it. But alas, she had no knowledge of lock picking and dropped the possibility altogether.

She paced around the cell for a few hours before deciding that it was late enough to attempt a sleep. She was in the process of preparing the most comfortable sleeping area possible when she heard mutterings from up the stairs. She pressed against the bars and listened. None of the other cells had any occupants from what she could see, and the voices were too far up the stairs, or too quietly uttered, to understand what they were saying. Veria backed away from the bars when two figures suddenly appeared before it.

It was a guard, accompanied by Wuunferth the Unliving, Ulfric's court-wizard.  
"But she's here under Ulfric's personal command," the guard insisted to Wuunferth.  
"The Jarl has authorized me to draft her as a temporary assistant during her stay here in the palace, if she is willing."  
The guard grunted in defiance but said, "Very well, but she is to be treated as a prisoner. She is to wear wrist irons, and you'll have the key."  
"Agreed," Wuunferth said.

The guard gave Wuunferth a pair of wrist irons and unlocked the cell door.  
"Just be quick about it," he grunted. "If she disagrees, call me so I can lock her back in." He sauntered away, leaving Wuunferth in front of the cell with the irons.  
"You heard the proposition, I presume?" He asked her.  
"I did," Veria replied. "What do you want?"  
"If you help me with a small task, I'll let you go ahead of schedule. It shouldn't take long. You'll be home before sunrise, if you choose to travel at night, that is."  
Veria narrowed her eyes and approached the door. "What kind of task?"  
Wuunferth lowered his voice. "You're nothing but a little whore, from what I see," he whispered. "And I'm in need of your services."

Of course. Veria could always count on mens' urges. At first she wanted to deny him. He was older than her usual catch, and not the most prestigious or well-liked man in Windhelm. He was actually more of a hermit. But then, she started to think this was perfect. No one spoke to Wuunferth. So one cared about his affairs. While he didn't seem to fancy her much as a person, he certainly had an interest in satisfying his hunger, and Veria could use a ride after her failure.

"I'll do it," she muttered.

Wuunferth opened the door and clasped the irons around her wrists. Dragging her by the chain he nearly ran up the stairs and our of the dungeon. He led her across the hall, through a door, up some stairs and to the end of another hall. This was his quarters. He closed the door tight behind them. Veria waited for him to unlock the irons, but instead he grabbed her hair and shoved her facefirst into a bed. He held her head into the sheets and she felt him dealing with the garments around his waist. She squirmed, not quite sure what was going on, but his grip on her head held fast.

She felt him pull on her dress, then winced when she heard it tear. Wuunferth threw the fabric aside and tugged on her undergarment until it too was flung away. He let go of her head and placed both his palms on her bare bottom. Then a thrust.  
He didn't ease in like normal people do. He barreled head long into her, and not into the space she was used to. She flinched away instinctively, but Wuunferth pulled her back, and thrust again.

"AH!" She yelped in pain. Anal. Veria had never tried anal before. She was, in truth, afraid of the pain- "AH! Ow-" Wuunferth pushed her face into the bed to silence her. He eased out a little, then thrust again. This time, there was a tiny spark of pleasure in Veria. He thrust again. A little more. Thrust. More. Thrust. More.  
"Harder..." Veria gasped out the sheets. "Harder!" He thrust harder again and again, sending her body back and forth with each motion. Her fists, still bound, gripped the sheets tightly. Sweat poured from every pore. Saliva dripped from her mouth with each gasp of ecstasy. He felt his hands come around and pull her shirt down, revealing her bare breasts. He took them in his hands and squeezed. He used his new leverage the thrust once more, this time from a slightly different angle.

"AH!" she cried, than whispered, "Wuunferth...Wuunferth..."  
Then, the completely unexpected. Wuunferth's palms suddenly felt tingly against her breasts. Then came a soft sound of thunder. There was a flash of light, and Veria was suddenly full of magical lightning. It coursed through her body, Wuunferth still inside. He thrust again. The magic was painful. The thrust was painful. But underneath it was a dirty, filthy pleasure. It was the most exciting sex Veria had ever had. She would even go so far as to say it was the best.

Wuunferth finally removed himself, and the lighting died away. Through her panting she heard him sigh, then felt warm liquid spreading over her back.


	3. Chapter 3

Veria made her way home. It was the middle of the night, and the darkness provided her excellent cover. She was wrapped in the cloak she had taken to give to Ulfric, as her clothes were now in tatters. She didn't mind, though. It was actually a bit of a turn on. Something about her clothes, torn to pieces, hanging from her like moss excited her. She looked down and rubbed her wrists, now raw from the irons. Somehow, beyond reason, that made her heat flare up again. Who would have guessed that tatters and chains could be so exciting?

Now though, she had to focus on getting home. As usual, it wasn't that hard. She stuck to the shadows, watched out for people passing by, and moved when no one was looking. She was across the bridge in no time. She tiptoed to her front door and carefully pushed it open. Her father was passed out on the floor. Perfect. She closed the door behind her and stored the cloak away in the workshop. She had already cleaned herself at the palace, so she went straight to bed. She laid there a while, thinking about her new perspective. There were so many things she never thought of, and so many things she wanted to try. Wuunferth, the old disgusting hermit of the palace, had been the best thing to happen to her in a while.

After a moment she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Veria awoke to find her father still on the floor, mumbling incoherently. She rolled her eyes and started making breakfast. A hearty stew was bubbling in the pot above the fire when her father finally came to. She served him and he made slurred chit chat. He seemed to have forgotten all about her trip to the palace. Once he was eating she went to the workshop. She didn't feel like being around him.

She locked the door behind her and leaned against it, surveying the room. She didn't feel much like working. She didn't want to go back and make small talk with her father. Veria was in the process of thinking of something to do with her time when she suddenly heard the front door of the house burst open. She pressed her ear to the workshop door and listened. Her father yelled in surprise, and there was the sound of struggling. Furniture was tipped over and slammed into the ground, cookware clanged loudly as they toppled, and numerous pairs of feet scuffled around the room.

"What are doing!?" she heard her father yell. "Get out! Get out of my house-AH!"  
Veria flinched when she heard them strike him. She heard him struggling.

"Hold him," a voice said. She heard a knife or a sword being unsheathed. "Yorgrund...we've searched very long and hard for you."  
"I don't know what you're-AH!"  
"Don't play dumb, old man. You can't have so easily forgotten about the first half of your life. You know what you did, and now we've come to make you pay. First, we're going to ransack your house, take everything and anything of value." Veria heard the contents of all the cupboards and chests being strewn across the ground. They were at it for a good few minutes until one of them grunted, "There's nothing here."

"What about that room there?" The leader said. Her father yelped in pain. "What's in there, old man?"  
"Nothing...it's only my workshop."  
"Nothing, eh? We'll be the judge of that. Tulian, check that room."

Veria stumbled backward when she realized they were coming for her. She frantically looked around the room for a place to hide. The doorknob was turned but the lock held fast.  
"It's locked," a voice grunted.  
"Then knock the damn thing down."

Veria jumped when the door was suddenly struck by something large and heavy. She dived behind a wardrobe just as the lock shattered and the man came stumbling in. She didn't look. She only hid and hoped they wouldn't see her.  
The man rifled through the workshop, overturning tables and cupboards. He pocketed a few of the jewels they had for decorating belts and clasps, and started tearing away at the contents of the wardrobe Veria was hiding behind. She held her breath and stood as still as stone. The wardrobe was almost empty. He'd be gone soon. She would make it through this without being spotted.

The wardrobe now empty, the man pulled it downward and it toppled onto its face. Veria's hiding spot was no more. She pressed herself against the wall and stared wide-eyed at the thief. It wasn't a man at all. It was an Argonian. His scales were dark green and shone like wet stones in the light. His grinned a smile of ivory daggers.  
"What's this?" He hissed, his voice gruff and slimy. It matched his reptilian physique perfectly. "A pretty little thing like you shouldn't go to waste."

He was too strong for Veria to fight off, but she still struggled against him. The Argonian dragged her by the wrist through the door and threw her down on the floor by her father.  
"Found this one hiding behind a wardrobe," he said.  
There were four of them total. Three men, the nationality of which Veria couldn't place, and the one Argonian. Their armor was dark leather. It was light and didn't give them any extra bulk. The leader was wearing a black robe over his armor. He looked to be a Nord and had pale hair and complexion. He smiled and tugged violently on Yorgrund's hair, forcing his face upward.

"Holding out on us, eh Yorgrund? We have use for girls like this. We'll take her as part of your payment."  
"Payment?" Veria said. "What the hell are you talking about? Why are you doing this?"The man slapped her across the face and she went sprawling on the floor again. "Bind her!" he yelled at another man who looked half Nord half Breton. He crossed her wrists behind her and bound them with rope. She gasped in pain when he pulled it tight. There was no wriggling free of this bond. She sat up on her knees, and the leader knelt down in front of her. His face was way too close, and she leaned back. He leaned forward. His breath was hot.

"What?" he said. "You don't know what your father did before settling down here in Windhelm?" He took her chin into his palm. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened around her cheeks, warping her expression and squishing her lips together uncomfortably.  
"He was a slaver," the man said into her mouth. "He captured innocent people, stole them from their homes or caught them out on the street and sold them. He kept his own hideout where his men would break in the new recruits. He tortured them. Starved them, burned them, whipped them daily. Everyone he sold was mindless and obedient because their spirits had been destroyed. He was a pretty good slaver, except for his lousy security. Sometimes slaves would escape. The strongest held out until after he sold them to get away. I was one of those slaves. I got away, as did all my friends here.

We made a living for ourselves. We became mercenaries. We made good money, but we've always hunted him. He disappeared, dropped off the map. He was hard to find to begin with, but it looked like his operations had stopped altogether years ago. We never found evidence that he was dead, and that was reason enough to find him and make him pay for what he did to us. Our friend Tulian," he motioned to the Argonian. "He has more reason to be here than anyone, after what you put him through. He suffered more than any of us at your hand."

"Why do you think I'm here!?" Yorgrum yelled. "Why do think I'm drinking myself to death!?"  
The man stood and delivered a solid kick to Yorgrum's midsection. He fell backwards and curled up in pain.  
"I don't care how sorry you feel!" the man yelled. "It doesn't change what you've done, and we're here to deliver justice! We're taking your valuables, we're taking your girl, and then we're taking your life."  
"Wait! Fine! Fine!" Yorgrum threw himself at the man's feet. "Take it! Take it all! Take my daughter! Torture me! Just let me live!"  
"F-father!" Veria was appalled. Her father didn't care about her at all. All that mattered was his own skin. It had always been that way.

"Just for that, Yorgrum," the leader stepped back. "Your death just got a few hours slower."  
One of the other men whipped out a small metal tool. It looked sharp.  
"Please," Yorgrum pleaded. "Please no-AARGHH!"  
The blade was driven deep into his skin. Blood pooled around it and dripped down his skin. Veria stared in shock, unable to look away.

"Our friend here is quite the talented torturer. He'll make is so you'll see your own heart before it stops beating."  
The torturer sliced the blade out of Yorgrund, spraying a line of red on the floor. Yorgrund yelled in agony. Veria felt afraid. Not for him. To her surprise, she was feeling little for her father. Rather, she was afraid that the same fate awaited her. The leader must have sensed her apprehension, for he turned to look at her.  
He motioned to the Argonian. "Knock her out. Make sure she doesn't wake until we're back at the hideout."  
Veria looked up just in time to see the Argonian looming over her. Her vision was suddenly obscured by a blunt instrument, and the world went dark.

* * *

It took Veria several attempts to wake up. The first time, her vision was blurred and her eyelids heavy. She fell back into unconsciousness quickly. This happened a few times until she opened her eyes and they stayed open. Her wrists were no longer bound, and wherever she was smelled old and musty. She sat up, and immediately was seized by a splitting pain in her skull. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her head until the pain died down a little. When it was manageable, she looked up again. She was in a cell. Three walls of decaying stone and one of rusted iron bars. The blocks of stone were eroded and dripping with moisture and moss. The corners were piled high with dust and debris. The bars were old and covered in a layer or rust, but unmovable. Looking out, Veria could see there were other cells like hers. It looked like the room had eight cells total, four on the other side and four on her side. It looked like each cell had an occupant.

She sat back. The situation wasn't good. Her father was probably dead by now, and it sickened her to think about how much she didn't care. She wasn't completely heartless, there was a little bit of loss there, but it was more like losing a chicken from the coop than losing a father. What worried her more was what they had planned for her. What was she going to be made to do? Was she going to be a slave? Was she going to be a prisoner? Were they going to torture her? She had no idea. She didn't even know where she was.  
Veria pressed her face against the bars to get a better look at the room. There were no windows. There was soil between the stones of the wall and ceiling and in the holes left by missing blocks. She was most likely underground, which didn't tell her much considering how many abandoned caves and tombs there were in Skyrim.

It was at this point that one of the other prisoners noticed she was awake. He pressed himself against the bars of his cell and reached out towards her.  
"Hey there, lass," he slurred. "Why don't you lift that skirt up? Give me some sweetness?"  
Veria sneered at him. The other prisoners heard the commotion and also pressed themselves against their bars, trying to catch a glimpse of their female guest. The hallway was full of groping hands outstretched from between the bars, and it was loud with their jeers, calls, and whistles.  
She groaned. This wasn't the right time at all. And didn't they know they'd never get to her?

The man across from her stripped himself bare started to attend to himself. It was like a craftsman polishing an iron rod, rubbing it down its length and back, over and over. Rub, rub, rub. The man grunted a little with each completed rub. It grew increasingly stiffer and swelled slightly. Veria watched, not entirely amused. Nevertheless, as she sat there on the ground she moved her heel so it stuck up into her groin. She bounced a little as the man in front of her got more and more excited. She pressed her heel into herself under her skirt. She sighed heavily. The man added his hips to the polishing motion. She pressed into her heel harder and made a circular motion. Her face was growing warm. She let out a small whimper.

The man's moist hands abandoned himself and gripped the iron bars. Veria was distracted by the sound of his hips banging against the bars. The sound became a constant rhythm against the prison, which was still loud with catcalls. _Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang-clang-clang-clang_. The man groaned and started to slow. Veria had since removed her heel and was only watching. It was a degrading thing to watch. The man probably hadn't seen a woman in a while. Veria made a mental note to look out for herself if she ended up in a room with him while they were unrestrained.

The man's excitement was interrupted when the main door opened with a loud screech. A man stood there. From his clothing and ring of keys Veria thought he must be the prison keeper. The prisoners withdrew instantly and fell silent. The excited man quickly dressed himself before the keeper saw him. The whole place was silent as he strode down past the cells. When he came to Veria's, he stopped. She stood up as he unlocked and opened the door.

"Come with me," he growled.  
"Where am I going?" Veria asked.  
"I was told to deliver you when you woke. I figured you must have been up from all the commotion I was hearing."  
"That doesn't answer my question."  
The keeper grumbled and grabbed her arm. "Come on," he said. He dragged her out of the cell and down past the other prisoners.

He pushed her up a set of stairs and into a corridor. The place was something like a cave. Some places were built in chiseled stone, others were sharp with unrefined rock. There were hallways leading in almost every direction. Through one was a narrow staircase, and the keeper pushed Veria up it. Everything was lit dimly with flickering torches, and the light danced on the wall and created ominous shadows. The stairway ended in a small stone landing and a wooden door. The keeper knocked.  
"Enter," a voice said.  
Veria was pushed through the door.  
"The girl, like you wanted."  
"Thank you Bruff. You can go."

The man turned and closed the door behind him, and Veria was left alone with a familiar man. It was the pale leader from before, except in place of his armor was a simple robe and trousers. His back was facing her, and he seemed to be sharpening a wooden stick with a dagger. The room was fairly large. It was much dryer than the prison, and the stonework looked to be in pretty good shape. Torches filled the place with orange light. There were a few chests by the wall, a desk, which the man was seated at, and a very fine looking bed with red covers. It seemed a bit out of place; something so nice being in a place so old and run down.

The man finally stood and turned around to look at her. He was the prime example of a Nord, solidly built with strong features, fair skin and pale hair. He fondled the sharpened stick between his fingers.  
"You've probably guessed by now that your father is dead," he said rather casually. Veria nodded. "You don't seem that upset about it."  
Veria shrugged. "He looked out for himself, and now I'm looking out for myself. What do you want with me?"  
The man gave a small smile. "What's your name?" he asked.  
"It's Veria."  
"That's a beautiful name." He reached forward to touch her hair, and she shrunk back. He suddenly grabbed her arm violently. "Don't," he growled. She stepped forward again and he released his grip to gently take a lock of of her hair and move it back away from her eyes. "My name is Bedrel."

"What do you want with me?" Veria asked again, although at this point it was fairly obvious.  
Bedrel's hand moved to her neck where it stayed. His grasp was firm enough to feel threatening but soft enough not to hinder her breathing.  
"I'll make you a deal, Veria. I'll give you a choice. Your first option is to spend the remainder of your time here in the dungeon with the other prisoners, be subject to labor and maybe a small bit of abuse."  
"And my second option?"  
He released his grip on her neck and lifted up her hand. "You help me," he spread out her fingers and inserted his own into the spaces in between. "With whatever I need."  
"...such as?"  
"Well...for example..." He moved her hand to chis lower stomach and slowly forced it downward to his groin. "Feel that?" She pulled back slightly, but he forced her hand into him. It felt warm and hard. He stroked the side of her breast with the backside of his other hand.  
"Those are my only options?" she said.  
"Yes, they are."

Veria took a moment to think. On one hand, she'd live a life of pain and discomfort. On the other hand she'd effectively be a private pleasure slave. She was inclined to take the latter, but the morality of it gave her pause. She thought about her behavior over the past year or so, and decided that she hadn't exactly been in line with morality for quite some time. Morality didn't even matter in a situation like this anyway. If anything, she should choose what would be the least painful, or the most fun.

Her fingers searched for the edge of his robe.  
"I'll take the second option."  
Bedrel smiled and said quietly, "Good." He brought his hands over her shoulders and forced her to her knees while she brought her other hand up to undo his belt. He held her in place firmly, as if to prevent her from running.  
When the belt was undone she flung it away and plunged her hand into his robe. Beneath the fabric she searched for his trousers. She felt them and slipped her hand under them.

She pulled his hardened rod out into the light. The pink, fleshy surface shone with sweat that glimmered in the torchlight. Veria felt Bedrel's hand on the back of her head, easing her forward.  
"Lick it first," he whispered. "Lengthwise."  
She complied. Her tongue ran the length, helping it to harden further. His grip on her hair tightened.  
"The head."  
Veria wrapped her lips around the pink end and suckled. Hear hands gripped his thighs to steady herself. Bedrel suddenly forced Veria's head forward, and his whole rod disappeared in her mouth.  
"All of it," he said, his voice a little raspy. "Harder."  
She went as far as she could, tightened her lips around the fleshy rod, pulled down to the head, released, and returned.  
"Suck..." he commanded in a quivering voice. He gasped. "Suck."  
Veria took the whole thing in her mouth and sucked. Her fingers tightened around his thighs. His hands dug into her shoulder and scalp. He was breathing heavily. Veria's head was a little jostled when he started rocking back and forth. He thrust slightly, and Veria felt it in the back of her throat.

The room was filled with the sound of crackling torches, heavy breathing, and a steady squishing rhythm.


	4. Chapter 4

_creak, creak, creak, creak, creak, creak_  
"Hah, hah, hah, Ah! AH! AH! AH!"  
_thump thump thump thump thump_  
"AH! YES! YES! AH! OH! MMM, MMM," Veria gasped, a little louder each time.

Bedrel lay on his back on top of the red covers of his bed. Veria sat up vertically on top of him. They were both completely naked, and Bedrel gripped her bare breasts firmly, making her flesh bulge between his fingers. Her nipples peeked out between them like a pair of pink eyes. She was doing all the work, riding up and down, and with each movement her breasts pulled and bounced beneath Bedrel's hands. When she was up, Bedrel pushed her upward slightly by her breasts, and pressed into the bed with his buttocks. When she came down, he'd pull her down and thrust his hips upward slightly. They had started at a slower pace, but now she was bouncing rapidly. The bed creaked loudly with their movements, even more so now that she was inflicting it so strongly.  
_creak-creak-creak-creak-creak_  
She could feel the frame bending beneath them. Bedrel's grunts were subtle, like all mens' were, and they were nearly drowned out by Veria's gasps and moans.

Veria began a vertical circular motion, bending his rod from side to side while still rapidly swallowing it between her legs. Bedrel moaned once, and their movements slowed.  
"Ah!" Veria came down slowly as they climaxed. She felt him getting ready to come, and she removed herself. She kissed it  
lengthwise with her groin, and white liquid spurted from the tip. Bedrel let out a long breath as Veria spread the liquid over her lower stomach where it landed. She laid down on top of him, pressing her breasts into his chest. Her orgasm had been mostly exaggerated, for his sake. It had been a very unimpressive performance on his part. She'd had better. Much better, but she wasn't about to make it obvious. If she wanted to stay on good terms with Bedrel, her captor, she'd have to make a good impression. And that included making him think he was good. In truth, he was slightly smaller than Veria liked, and his movements were plain and boring. She tried her best to make it interesting, but it was like making love to a fencepost. Save for his little thrusts, Bedrel hardly moved. Veria had to do all the work.

Maybe that's how he wanted it, but Veria didn't find it very entertaining. Laying there on top of him, her jaw and breasts pressed into his skin, she had a desire to clench her teeth around a bit of him. She wanted to bite. He wanted to lick his neck. But she didn't want to risk displeasing him. It wasn't that she wanted to lick _his_ neck, anyway. Just _a_ neck.  
Bedrel sighed as he tried to catch his breath. He folded his hands behind his head and crooked one of his knees.  
"Now go to the baths and wash yourself. You smell awful."  
Well of course she smelled awful. She was covered in sweat, saliva, and his fluids.

"Where are they?" Veria asked.  
"Ask the man guarding the door to show you." He plucked a necklace from the bedside table and hung it around Veria's neck. She grasped her jaw and turned her face this way and that, like he was inspecting a goat before purchasing it. "Yes," he said finally. "I think you'll be quite useful to me." He returned his hand to the place behind his head. "That necklace is a symbol. Everyone here will know you belong to me. Now get out."

Veria slid off of him easily, as they were still fairly slick, and picked up her dress.  
"No," Bedrel said. "Leave it."  
"But-"  
"Walk there naked."Veria thought about protesting, but decided against it. She did her best to cover herself with her hair and although it was slightly too short it was better than nothing. She folded her hands in front of her and exited the room. Sure enough, there was a guard on the landing, his back facing the door. Veria fought to keep herself from grimacing. She had made so much noise. Did he hear them?  
The man turned to address the exiting person. Veria glanced at his crotch. He was wearing leather armor, but the bulge was slightly larger than normal. He'd been listening. He didn't speak or change his stony expression. He was waiting.  
"Bedrel told me to tell you to take me to the baths."

The guard glanced at her necklace and started down the stairs. Veria followed. They crossed the main corridor to another staircase. This one led downward. When they reached the bottom, they crossed a large room that was full of tables and chairs and lit by a large well of fire. Men sat at many of the chairs, and as she crossed the room with the guard she was surrounded by whistles and other calls. She tried to ignore it, but was thankful when she finally passed through another doorway into a tunnel. The tunnel was small and cramped, and there were no torches to light their way. Between the guard's arms and over his shoulders Veria could make out a cold light up ahead, and the sound of rushing water came closer. When they emerged, Veria paused to take in the sight.

They called it the baths, but it was really more of a spring. The tiny tunnel opened up into a huge rocky cavern. Up above was a large opening through which daylight poured and illuminated the cavern. Also through the opening came a small waterfall. It cascaded down into a small pool that spilled over into another pool, and those into two other pools, and so on until the water disappeared in the rock, no doubt forming an underground river. Plants hung over the edges of the opening and grew beside the pools. The sound of the waterfall echoed around the cavern, but it was quiet enough not to be disturbing. A tier of rocks formed a small cliff by the tunnel entrance, and a makeshift wooden staircase had been erected along the cavern wall.

The guard turned around and grumbled, "The baths." He then disappeared through the tunnel again, leaving Veria alone. Veria was eager to get herself clean, so she climbed down the damp wooden stairs. She eased herself into the closest pool and sighed with relief. The water was warm and comfortable. She dunked underwater and smoothed her hair back when she came up again. The rocky bottom of the pool formed a natural seat near the edge. She ran her hand down her arm and worked off the layer of dirt, sweat, and other grim that had accumulated since her last wash. Baths like this were a luxury, and Veria had only had them a few times during the summer when there was no ice on the river. She cupped some water in her hands and blew bubbles in it, then splashed on her face. She let out a little giggle.

"Someone is enjoying her bath."  
Veria gasped and crossed her arms in front of her. To her left, on the other side of the pool was a figure. He was in shadow and obscured partially by some plants, so she didn't see him when she got in. The man leaned toward the light a little, illuminating his deep green scales, curling horns, and golden eyes. His mouth was parted into a sharp-toothed grin. Another Argoninan.  
Veria scowled at him and crossed her legs. "My god, how many of you are there?"  
The Argonian smirked at her, amused. "Only one. I'm the only Argonian in the group. Which means I was there when your father died." His smiled widened it with malice. "I even helped."

Veria stared at him with a deadpan expression. The Argonian's lips came together. She wasn't eliciting anything close to the desired response.  
"I suppose that makes you...was it Tulio?" Veria said.  
His smile faded. "Tulian."  
"And I suppose you're here to wash my father's blood off your hands?"  
"All of me, actually."  
"Hm." Veria looked away and started working dirt off her other arm.

Tulian tilted his head slightly at her.  
"And you are here to wash Bedrel's leavings off yourself?" Veria glared at him but said nothing. He laughed. "You are pleasuring him then."  
"Unfortunately," she said. "I'll just have to keep a lookout for someone better."  
"Tsk, Tsk," Tulian shook his head. "You won't find anyone." Veria raised her eyebrow at him, and he pointed to her neck. "That necklace. It means you are his property. No one in this place will dare touch you."  
Veria smirked. "That sounds like a challenge."

"You are strangely adapted. You're father has been killed horrendously. You are a slave, and yet you smirk."  
"I'm making the best of my situation. It was either this or living in a dirty cell, and torture. There will be a new option eventually. I just have to wait."  
"Well, if you want to stay alive, I suggest not voicing your plans to other people. And don't be so quick to insult your new master."

Veria remained silent, and started working the dirt and other soil off the rest of her body. Neither of them spoke for a while. Veria glanced over to him, and saw that he was dozing, his head resting against a rock. She took the opportunity to get a better look at him. The water made his scales shine. A drop from the waterfall fell on his nose and dripped down his mouth. It clung to his jaw and slid down his neck. Veria watched it slid down his chest in between the scales until it met the surface of the pool. She looked again to his face. His snout protruded smoothy from his brow, which was ridged in spikes. Sharp teeth protruded slightly from under his upper lip. His jaw was edged by three large spikes, the middle one the largest. From the back of his head grew two horns that came around and curled behind his eyes. His neck was deep green and surprisingly fleshy. Hard scales spread over his shoulders, across his lower chest, and down his midsection, forming natural armor. The line of scales continued downward beneath the surface of the water, but the pool was slightly too murky to see anything else.

When Veria glanced back up to his face, she saw him smirking at her. She quickly looked back to herself. She heard him chuckle.  
"You've never seen an Argonian this close before, eh?" He said.  
Veria felt a little flush but said nothing, and did not look up. She felt the water shift around her. A shadow fell over her. Tulian's voice was nearly in her ear.  
"And?" He said quietly. His voice didn't even echo in the cavern. "Do you like what you see?"  
Veria looked up. He was close. Very close. His right arm rested on the rock wall she was leaning against. His head loomed down from over her. His breath was hot and smelled faintly of seaweed and brine. She felt panic. Her heart started to pound in her chest. She felt heat spread over her face.

Tulian's smirk widened and he suddenly gripped Veria's jaw tightly with his left hand. Veria gasped as his grip grew tighter. It hurt. He eased her face forward and upward as he loomed over her. His smile gleamed in the shadow he was casting beneath him. Veria's arm made contact with his scaly stomach, and she crossed her legs tighter.  
"It's not a good idea to me around me," he whispered, still smiling. "I was once your father's personal slave, years ago. I was only a child, but he did things to me. Torture. Labor. And a few times..." His eyes lit up with fury and his smile twitched. "He took me to his room..."  
"Stop it." Veria said. "Let go of me."  
His grip tightened. "I got him back. I made him suffer. I inflicted upon him three times the pain he inflicted upon me. We took out his tongue so he couldn't scream. We cut out his eyelids so he couldn't look away."  
"Would you let go?" Veria said. She was getting angry. She slammed a fist into his chest but he barely flinched. "I don't know if you've noticed but I don't exactly care that much about my father."

Tulian's smile faded into a scowl, and he tilted his head slightly. He peered into Veria's eyes and she scowled back. He stared for a long while until finally he released his grip and backed away. He chuckled and leaned back against the rocks and closed his eyes again. Veria rubbed her jaw.  
"I look forward to seeing how you'll fair in our quaint little home." Tulian said.  
"I'll fair just fine, just watch."  
"We'll see.

Tulian jumped to another pool so fast he was blur. He swam down the falls like a fish and disappeared with the river. Veria has forgotten Argonians could breath underwater. He was probably exploring the underground river. Veria rolled her eyes and dunked underwater again. She held her breath and scrubbed her hair and body with her hands. She slipped her fingers into her groin and gently scrubbed it too. She went a little longer and a little deeper then necessary. A small heat fluttered in her stomach. She was tempted to go deeper since her time with Bedrel had been so unrewarding.

But she decided against it and focused on getting herself clean. The water was warm and comfortable and she rested her head on the rock wall. She dozed for a few minutes until she heard the stairs creaking. She opened her eyes and saw the guard from before descending with a small chest in his hands. He placed it on the floor and grunted, "Clothes." Then he went back up the stairs.

Veria climbed out of the pool and approached the chest. On top of it was a large rag which she used to dry herself. Inside the chest were a few dresses. They were slightly finer the ones she was used to, and obviously stolen. She found all of them to be thin and with low necklines. Her chest would be showcased for all to see, it would seem. She chose a charcoal-colored dress and slipped it on. The neckline was indeed low. It swept downward and revealed her cleavage. The sleeves were long and undecorated. The skirt terminated just past her ankles. She fastened a matching dark belt around her waist and wondered whether she would get shoes. The dress was nice was still sturdy, meant for work.

She was dressed. All she had to do now was come up with some kind of plan.


	5. Chapter 5

When Veria climbed back through the tunnel she found the guard waiting for her. He led her back through the caves to Bedrel's chambers. He was sitting as his desk, fully robed. When she entered he rose and faced her.  
"You belong to me now, Veria. You will wear only what I give you. You will eat only when I feed you. You will do everything I command you to do. Can you promise me you'll obey?"  
"I promise to obey you," Veria said.  
"Good." Bedrel grasped Veria's neck and began to choke her. She gasped and clawed at his hands, but he was too strong. "Unfortunately, the promise of a slave means nothing," he said.

He took her head and threw it against the wall. She fell and crumpled up on the ground. Her vision spun and she coughed, fighting to refill her lungs. Bedrel grasped her hair and forced her chin into the floor.  
"This is an important part of the enslaving process," he said. "I have to make sure you'll obey me. I have to make it clear I'm not afraid to punish you should you misbehave."  
She gasped, "Wait, please-"  
"I didn't say you could talk, Veria."

Bedrel picked up one of the candles that was lighting the room and extinguished it against the exposed skin on her back. She yelped in pain, and Bedrel extinguished three more candles on her back. She started to scream, but Bedrel clamped a hand over her mouth.  
"Now get up," he grunted. He pulled her by the hair to a small fire that was burning in a basin. Stuck into the embers was a metal rod. "Now hold still."  
"No no-" Veria was struck silent by a slap across the face. She fell to the ground and felt Bedrel's foot press into her back.  
"Lift up your dress," he ordered. She hesitated, and he pressed painfully into her spine. "Do it."

She lifted her skirt and revealed her leg.  
"Higher," he said.  
She lifted it higher, revealing her bare bottom.  
She watched as he removed the rod from the fire. At the end was a brand. It was the same shape as the necklace he had given her, and it was glowing red-hot.  
"Now hold still, little mouse," Bedrel said in an almost singsong voice.

The glowing rod lowered slowly toward her leg. She felt it's heat radiating across her skin. Bedrel stabbed the brand into the side of her upper thigh. The metal hissed and sizzled and the skin melted in the heat. Veria wailed in pain and this time Bedrel didn't try to silence her. Tears poured down her face and she sobbed. He tossed the rod into a bucket of water where it hissed and sent up a cloud of steam. He removed himself and Veria sat up. She moved her quivering hands over the steaming red mark on her leg, afraid to touch it. She had felt pain before that she liked, but this was not that kind of pain. She didn't have time to catch her breath before Bedred clamped a hand around her throat again.

"Listen to me, my little mouse," He said. "Defy me, and there's more where that came from."  
Veria nodded, and he stood up. "This room is where you will sleep. You'll sleep next to me. For now, you are to follow me everywhere. Understood?" She nodded. "Good. As you know, I am the leader of a band of mercenaries. We kill and we steal, sometimes on our own, sometimes to fill a contract. We are the Black Eagles, and this is our home. Here we eat, sleep, train, and relax. Here we secure our treasures. If you are caught stealing, you will be punished. Now come with me."  
Veria followed him towards the door. "I'm going to eat, and you'll eat what's left."

* * *

It didn't take Veria long to figure out the layout of the Black Eagle hideout. After a few weeks she could navigate it easily. Bedrel would have her fetch things for him frequently. She'd have her hold things, cook food, help him get dressed, get undressed, even help him bathe. She wasn't aloud to speak, and the tiniest mistake would result in a slap or beating. She kept telling herself it was better than being a locked in a cell and tortured, but she wasn't entirely convinced. About one week after she arrived, Bedrel sent her to the kitchen to prepare him a meal.

She had a good pot of stew going when one of the men came in. It wasn't anything unusual. Men came to the kitchen to eat when they felt hungry. There was no restriction on when they could eat as long as they didn't take more than their share. Veria glanced up when she heard him come in. She had seen him around the hideout a few times. From what she could tell, he was rowdier than the rest. He was cocky and bragged about his contracts often. He was a muscular Nord with studded leather armor and a large battleax. His hair was very dark and grew long down his neck. He had messy beard that he kept cropped short, reveling a shapely neck with a large Adam's Apple. When he entered the kitchen he smirked at Veria.

"Cooking up Bedrel's evening meal, eh girl?" He said. His voice was deep and smooth. Veria merely nodded and turned back to her pot. The man crossed the room and plucked a loaf of bread off of one of the shelves. He bit into it and tore off a large chunk. On his way out he passed Veria and slapped her on the bottom.  
"Keep up the good work, beautiful." He laughed and bit into the bread again as he left. Veria scowled after him but said nothing. She went back to her pot and after a moment slapped herself in the forehead.

"Arg!" He grumbled to herself. "That would have been the perfect moment!"  
She wanted to try and seduce one of the other Black Eagle men, but she was almost always around Bedrel and could never get away long enough to try. She thought that if she could gain some kind of favor in one of the men, they might be willing to help her escape. If not that, creating some sort of stir in the group could lead to some kind of mutiny, during which she might be able to slip away. It wasn't a solid plan, but it was a plan.  
And she had just let a perfectly good opportunity go.

"Hmm. Maybe it's for the best." She continued to stir the stew. That man, from what she could tell, wasn't the kind to help a slave gain her freedom. "Oh well. Another opportunity will present itself...eventually..."  
"Veria," a voice boomed. She gasped and stood up straight as a pole. Bedrel was standing in the doorway. Had he heard her mumbling to herself? Was he getting impatient about his food? Was he there to punish her? A dozen things ran through her mind as he approached her.

"That man who was just here," he said.  
"Yes, my lord?" She said quietly.  
"Seduce him."

Veria couldn't help but gasp slightly. Had he somehow found out about her plans? But then, if he had, why would he ask her to do it?  
"Pardon me, my lord?"  
"And as he reaches his peak," He put something heavy in her hand. "Slit his throat." It was dagger in a leather sheath. "Cut shallow. Bleed him out slowly."  
Veria stared at him, aghast. "What?" It was all she could get out of her mouth.

"His name is Hyjekk. He's become greedy and lusts after my possessions. He's stolen from me and my men, and he is to be eliminated."  
Veria could feel her heartbeat beginning to race. She frantically searched for her logic. She could barely understand what was being asked of her, and why.  
"But..."  
Bedrel grasped Veria's arm. "Did I hear wrong, or was that a protest?"

Veria shook her head. "No, my lord. I just don't understand why you want me to do it. And in this way-"  
"It's not your place to question your master's orders, Veria..." He glared at her moment and Veria stared back in stunned silence. Then he released her arm and said, "He's getting cocky. He thinks he can do whatever he pleases. Killing him in the dining hall is too honorable for him. This punishment is what he deserves."  
He turned and headed towards the door. "Carry out your master's orders, Veria. Tonight."

And he was gone. Veria was left alone in frozen silence. She couldn't move. She couldn't think. The loud bubbling of stew is the only thing that snapped her out of it. She quickly turned back to stir it and found the dagger clutched in her hand. She quickly put it on the table and gripped the spoon with both hands. She stared at it as she stirred, and continued to stare as she poured the finished stew into a bowl. When the meal was prepared and ready to be delivered, she hesitated. He rested both her hands on the table and leaned over the dagger.

She had never killed anyone before. She had never wanted to. She had never even considered it. Everything in her told her not to do it, to defy Bedrel. But that would mean torture. He might even kill her. Slave girls couldn't be that hard to come by. He could always replace her. She took the dagger in her hands and slowly unsheathed it. It was made of steel and polished to to shine. The blade curved slightly and the hilt was wrapped in dark leather. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the blade and quickly stuck it back into the sheath.

"I don't want to do this," she muttered to herself. "But I don't have a choice."

* * *

As Veria was leaving Bedrel's room, she paused and looked back, hoping he had changed his mind. He stared back at her. He said nothing, and nodded. Veria turned away and headed down the stairs toward the common dining area. The men liked to gather there in the evenings to drink, gamble, and generally be rowdy. When she crept into the room, the night was already in full swing.

The room was brimming with the voices of men roaring with merriment. Ale flowed from large tankards and sloshed in their mugs. Much of it was ending up on the floor rather than their mouths. The men swayed and slurred a drunken song. Veria easily slipped through the room unnoticed and she kept to the shadows as she searched for Hyjekk. She finally spotted him by the tankards with a few other men. He was laughing an impossibly loud, deep laugh and guzzling down ale like his life depended on it. The liquid spilled over his mouth and streamed down beard and neck. Veria thought it looked kind of disgusting.

She knew she wouldn't be able to get him alone at that moment, so she waited. After a while he broke off from the group and sat down to rest by the fire. The chair next to him was empty. This was her chance. As she approached she sighed heavily, just loud enough to alert him to her presence. She sank into the chair next to him and sat back. She sighed again.

Veria didn't look at him right away, but she could see from the corner of her eye that he was looking at her.  
"It's nice to have a little down time, isn't it Hyjekk?"  
He grumbled drunkenly a bit then laughed, "What? Bedrel isn't entertaining enough for you?"  
"Unfortunately not." She glanced around and leaned towards him. "Between you and me, he's not very impressive under the sheets."  
Hyjekk laughed through his teeth, "His sword not sharp enough for you?"  
"No," Veria sighed. She glanced over his beloved weapon that he always kept beside him. "I think I'm more of an ax kind of girl."

Hyjekk's mouth slowly spread into a smile. "Oh?" He said, taking another large gulp of ale.  
Veria looked around the room. "It's filthy in here. I'm going to go wash up." She looked back to Hyjekk's face. "The baths will be unoccupied for quite some time."  
"Aye..." Hyjekk held his mug up to his mouth again but didn't drink.  
Veria stood and started to leave. As she passed behind Hyjekk, she brushed her fingers over his neck. "Ten minutes," she said quietly, and continued towards the exit. She didn't look back before she plunged into the shadow of the narrow tunnel.

* * *

Veria's clothes were folded neatly and placed on a dry patch of rock. The pool she sat in was on the farthest edge of the cavern and hard to see into from the entrance. She unsheathed the knife and hid it in the rocks nearby, then sat back in the warm water and waited.

It wasn't long before Hyjekk entered the cavern. He approached the pool Veria was in and looked at her a moment. His face was flush with his vast intake of ale. He removed the large battleax from his back and rested the head on the ground, folding his hands around the handle.  
"I'm told you like axes, little lass."  
"Well," Veria replied. "I like the men that carry the axes. They're stronger. More vigorous. Of course, I could be mistaken."  
"Oh, I'm vigorous."  
"Then get in here and prove it."

A smile spread across his face and his eyes lit up with hunger. He let the ax drop to the ground and started removing his leather armor. He dropped half of it and the ground, leaving his chest bare. He was covered in a layer of thick hair and thickly sculpted with muscle. He started to fiddle with his shoes, but Veria grasped his foot and pulled him into the pool with a large splash. The water sloshed out of the pool onto the rock and writhed like it was angry. When Hyjekk came up for breath Veria pushed him against the wall and kissed him passionately. Her tongue invaded his mouth and entangled with his. She ran her hands down his sides and he grasped her waist. Her hands found his crotch and she massaged the area, but it was hard to feel much past the leather.

She pulled her mouth away from his to take a breath and whisper, "Let's see what you have hiding under that leather."  
Veria felt for the buckles and straps as he removed his shoes. Once free he let them sink to the bottom of the pool and helped her remove the rest of his armor. She swam backward as she peeled the leather trousers from his legs. She held them up and tossed them aside with a smile. Hyjekk smiled hungrily and motioned with his fingers for her to come closer.

She swam to the edge of the pool closest to the rock where she hid her knife and motioned for him to come to her. He tilted his head in defiance, but she stood her ground, and he eventually gave in.  
Hyjekk swam to Veria. When he was upon her he grasped the rocks behind her pressed himself against her body. Her breasts pressed into his chest and she wrapped her arms around him. Their breathing was getting heavier. He sank his head and she felt his breath on her shoulder blade. She felt his legs situating around her. He pressed his face into her neck, and she did the same to him. He shifted, and she gasped as he penetrated.  
"Hyjekk," she gasped. "I thought you said you were vigorous."  
He merely grunted a laugh, and thrust again.

After a few minutes, the water was thrashing with their movements. Veria's head was banging softly against the rock. With every movement a gasp would escape her, growing ever louder as they pressed on. Soon she moaning.  
"AUUGHH...right there...right there! AH! Hyjekk!"

Their movements slowed, and Veria could feel him coming to his climax. He moaned a little, and Veria reached up and grasped the hilt of her knife. He exhaled, and Veria felt hotness inside her.  
Hyjekk sighed. "Veria-"  
She dragged the dagger over his throat. A red line split across his skin, and he jerked backward in shock. He clutched his throat, doing nothing to stop the blood from gushing out of the wound. The red streams bubbled through his fingers and dripped into the water. He choked and gurgled and slowly sank in the water. Soon he was completely submerged and Veria was surrounded by a cloud of red.


	6. Chapter 6

Veria sat on the ground beside the pool with her knees drawn up to her chest. She was hugging them close and gripping the knife tightly in her hand. All she could think about was Hyjekk's blood, a cloud of red wrapping around her body like a pair of arms. His body floated just beneath the surface of the water. His eyes were wide, his mouth agape, and it was easy enough to tell that he was still erect between the legs. A most disgraceful sight.  
She remembered the dagger dragging across his throat and line of red that followed. His eyes wide with terror and the red ooze that dripped between his fingers. A peculiar sensation raked across her skin and she felt a flutter deep in the pit of her stomach.

The blade was suddenly slipped from Veria's hand and she looked up to see Bedrel standing over her. He slipped the dagger into his belt, grasped Veria's shoulders and placed her in a nearby clean pool.  
He rested his hand on the top of her head and said, "Clean yourself up, then come to bed."  
Veria merely nodded. Her voice was nowhere to be found. Bedrel withdrew and left her alone in the pool of crystal water.

* * *

When Veria stepped into the bedroom, Bedrel was waiting. His chest was completely bare, and although the blanket covered him from the waist down Veria could easily guess he was also bare in that area. It was obvious what he wanted. Veria slid out of her dress and was nude once again. Without a second thought she climbed into the sheets with him and positioned herself on top. She began her work, expertly moving around his body to render unto him the pleasure he craved. But she was numb.

With every thrust there should have at least been a ripple of pleasure in her, but there was nothing. She felt nothing. She felt cold and dry. She could feel Bedrel expanding inside of her, feeling what she wasn't. Then he released, and she withdrew. The work was still tiring, and she sat back to catch her breath. Bedrel sighed heavily and looked up at her.  
"You were lacking in spirit this time," he said.  
Veria froze. Her muscles became tense, bracing themselves for an onslaught. He was unhappy with her performance, and she'd surely pay for it. She bowed her head, closed her eyes and waited for the punishment to come.

She winced when Bedrel's hands encased the sides of her face. He pulled her head downward, and she instinctively jerked backward, but only just.  
"Shhh..." Bedrel whispered.  
Veria opened her eyes in time to see Bedrel pulling her face over his and pressing his mouth against hers. He kissed her. He never kissed her. Not like his. He worked his lips gently over hers, running his fingers through her hair. His tongue slipped onto hers. The kiss became deep and passionate. Something in Veria stirred at this unexpected act, and her body relaxed against his.

He wrapped and arm around her waist and turned. He was suddenly on top of her, his kiss traveling from her mouth to her neck and his hands gently gripping her waist. Veria wasn't expecting a familiar heat to spark into life in her stomach. His chest pressed against her breasts, pressing her into the bed. She lifted a leg and he ran his hand down her inner thigh.  
His kisses returned, this time to her chest. Then to her ribs. He ran his hand over her thigh again as he kissed her stomach. Veria could feel his neck playing against the hair between her legs. She lifted both her knees and dug her heels into the bed. Bedrel gripped her thighs and she lost sight of his face. Her head rolled back and her eyes slid closed as she felt him in the sensitive skin hiding under the hair.

His tongue played against the wet, pink walls and his lips suckled against her skin. A gasp escaped Veria and she gripped Bedrel's hair tightly. He went deeper, and his kiss became as fierce as it had been against her mouth. Veria breathed heavily, feeling a flicker of pleasure. But it wasn't enough.  
"Come back," she gasped.  
Bedrel reappeared and returned his face to hers. His legs found hers and took measure. He was properly prepared, so he lowered himself into her. Veria's head rolled back again. All of his body was pressed against hers, his face resting on the pillow beside her head. His hand ran the length of her arm in search of her hand. When he found it, he blindly removed it from it's grip on the sheets and weaved his fingers in between hers. Bedrel worked his body into hers expertly, producing in her the passion that had eluded her earlier in the evening, and that she had feared she had lost.  
Bedrel moved unexpectedly, and Veria jerked sharply with a small scream, not of pain but of all the feeling associated with a passionate night with a lover. She gasped loudly and tried to find her breath. Her lungs were empty when another movement occurred. They froze, breathless, as the heat spread out over them. Then all their muscles relaxed.

Bedrel kissed her weakly on the cheek, having spent his strength.  
"You did well with Hyjekk," he said. "That was your reward."

* * *

The next morning Veria found herself waking not only next to Bedrel but entangled with him. He woke soon after and slipped himself out of her arms and got dressed. She did the same, and he commanded her to make him a meal as if nothing had happened the night before. Veria wasn't surprised and wasn't naive enough to feel hurt. He was her master, and she was his slave. It didn't matter how well he serviced her hours ago; nothing had changed.

Bedrel commanded Veria to stand in his shadow at all times in case he needed something. She followed him all day, and when it came to be midday she found herself in what looked like war room. It was a smallish space and contained racks of weapons and armor. The table that stood in the middle was covered edge to edge with a map of Skyrim. There were tiny markers placed deliberately on several spots on the map. Atop the table Bedrel read through a series of scrolls. When he was through he glanced over to Veria.  
"Tell Bruff to fetch Engar."  
She went out the door and said the words to that large man guarding it. She then returned to her corner of the room and waited. A few minutes later a Nord, smaller than the other ones Veria knew of in the Black Eagles.

"Engar," Bedrel said. He held out a scroll. "Deliver this to Delvin in Whiterun. His contract has been completed."  
Engar took the scroll and disappeared through the door once again. Bedrel removed a small marker from the map and made a small dash in a ledger beside him. Without warning, another man burst through the door. Bedrel looked up in surprise at the man in front of him.  
"Hod," Bedrel said. "What in Oblivion is going on?"

"Bedrel," the man panted. His black hair was drenched with sweat and matted against his face.  
"Hod," Bedrel said, pushing the man into a chair. "You have a contract for me?"  
"Indeed I do sir. I came back as quickly as I could to give it to you." The man drew a scroll from under his cloak and held it out for Bedrel.

Bedrel unrolled it and froze at the sight of the wax seal at the bottom of the letter.  
"This is..." he began.  
"Lord Signit, in Solitude."  
"A Thane of Solitude," Bedrel continued. "Wants our services."

He read the letter thoroughly. Hob bent over and tried to catch his breath. Bedrel looked up.  
"Bruff!" he called. The large man entered. "Summon the rest of the men. Have them gather in the common area."

* * *

Bedrel stood in front of the fire, every Black Eagle assembled before him. Veria stood not far away from him, on the sidelines. Bedrel held in his hand the letter he received from Bruff.  
"We have been contacted," Bedrel began, "by Lord Signit, a Thane of Solitude." A ripple of excitement went through the group. Bedrel continued. "As you all know, Lord Signit is very powerful, and wealthy, individual. Completing this contract in full will open up his network of friends to us, all equally wealthy and powerful men who need a variety of services rendered unto them. This," he held up the letter. "is just the beginning. The Black Eagles will become the most powerful mercenary group in all of Skyrim!"

The men cheered. Their voices filled the room with noise that rung in Veria's ears and seemed to cause the floor to shake. Once they had quieted down again, Bedrel read through the letter and spoke again.  
"Lord Signit needs us to discredit one of the nobles in Solitude. The man's name is Lorth Roth, and he's made his fortune from trading. He owns several shops that are, per Signit's instructions, to be stuck with a series of unfortunate events. His businesses will suffer, and he will have no choice but to deal in Skooma and Moon Sugar, which we will plant in his last remaining caravans. Upon their arrival to their respective cities the guards there will receive anonymous tips that the caravans are smuggling illegal substances, and Roth will be arrested. It's a very specific order, and honestly is seems overly complicated for my tastes, but Lord Signit has instructed the job be done this way.  
"We will start with attacking caravans. Different teams will disguise themselves as bandits and ransack Roth's shipments. Not all at once; it has to seem unfortunate, not intentional. There is one caravan passing nearby. I will lead a small team to ransack it. It will be our first move."

Bedrel went about selecting men for the job. He wandered about the room and spoke to several different groups of men. The others moved around and talked amongst themselves. Any attention that Veria might have been attracted was no longer existent. She found herself pleasantly alone.  
"Has our little mare been broken?" A voice said. It seemed she wasn't alone at all. Veria glanced at the owner of the voice and rolled her eyes. Tulian was leaning against the wall not far from her place by the fire, half hidden in shadow.  
"Tulian," she said. "Good evening."  
"Good evening, little mare." Tulian smirked.  
"Stop calling me that. I'm not broken." Veria looked forward into the crowd of mercenaries.  
"Oh?"  
"No," Veria scowled at him. "I'm not."  
"So he didn't pleasure you after your deed, then?"  
"Oh no, he did," Veria smirked mischievously at him. "He certainly did. But I know what he's trying to do, and it's not going to work. And how do you even know about my...deed?"

Tulian waved a hand like he was swatting away a fly. "Everyone knows," he said. "No one here will try to touch you ever again."  
"Great." Veria crossed her arms in annoyance. "That's great."  
"Do I sense some disappointment? A ruined escape plan perhaps?" Tulian leaned forward in interest.  
"You don't sense anything," Veria snapped. "Would you just go away?"  
"As you wish, m'lady." He slithered off, and Veria rolled her eyes at him.

He was right, though. No one in this cave was going to trust her to bed them ever again. Her plan, however rough and poor it had been, was ruined. And at present she had no plan B.


	7. Chapter 7

The first attack on the caravans went off without a hitch. In the following weeks, plans for other attacks were made. Two weeks after the first attack Bedrel took down another caravan, then another a week after that. It was time to for Bedrel to get his hands on some Moon Sugar and Skooma, and a lot of it. He had a contact that could easily get his hands on the substances, but he wasn't the charitable type. A deal had to be made, so Bedrel invited him to the hideout.

He arrived very late at night and Bedrel received him warmly. Veria stood idly by, like usual, and watched the exchange. The man's name was Urjora, and he was covered head to toe in fur. Veria had seen a Khajiit once in her life and had always found them unsettling. This one was clad in hooded robes with small dagger belted around his waist. His fur was sandy and his claws were wicked and dark. His eyes were an unsettling shade; unnaturally bright green with darker flecks. Those eyes darted away from Bedrel and fixed themselves on Veria, and she quickly looked away. Bedrel and the Khajiit continued talking.

"It is late, my friend," Bedrel said. "You must be exhausted from your journey. Come and rest for the night. We can begin our dealings tomorrow morning."  
"Urjora thanks you," the Khajiit said. His voice was thick with a sharp Elsewyre accent. "Urjora is eager to begin negotiations, but indeed, his journey has tired him."  
"Come, follow me. We have a room prepared for you."

Bedrel lead Urjora through the caves, Veria following close behind. Once or twice the Khajiit glanced back at her, which she did her best to ignore. They stopped outside a door. "Here we are," Bedrel said. "Make yourself at home. Veria, stay out here for the night in case our guest needs anything." Veria groaned inwardly, but said nothing and simply nodded. Urjora gave his thanks again and disappeared into the room. Bedrel nodded at Veria and departed down the hall, presumably to his own bed.

Now alone in the hallway, Veria let out a sigh and leaned against the wall next to the door. She would be here all night; might as well get comfortable. The door creaked, and she was suddenly drawn through it by her wrist. She stumbled into the room, which was lit dimly by orbs of magical light where fire should have been in the iron lanterns on the walls. It gave the whole room an eerie greenish blue tint. The door shut and Veria spun around to face Urjora. He lowered his hood and faced her. His face lit up with a friendly smile.  
"Forgive Urjora's roughness," he said. "It is a bad habit." He waited for Veria to respond, but when she did not he continued: "Do you like the lights? Urjora never cared for the light of fire, so he extinguished the lanterns and made light of his own. Do you like it them? Much more pleasing, yes?"

Veria stood up straight and nodded slightly. She didn't take her eyes off of him. "They are quite beautiful, sir," she said politely. "Is there something you needed?"  
"Urjora requires very little, young Nord. On his way here he had a brief run-in with a mountain bear and sustained a small injury." He held up a bundle of bandages. "Would you be so kind as to treat it for him?"Veria was a little surprised at the request. "Why didn't you tell my lord Bedrel? He would have surely provided care to a friend."  
A small chuckle escaped the Khajiit. "Little Nord knows little about dealings between criminals, Urjora sees. Do not be fooled by pleasantries between such folk. Showing the slightest weakness will hinder Urjora's dealings with your master." He held the bandages out a little further. "If you would be so kind, little Nord."  
Veria gave him a little nod. "I'll go fetch some hot water. If anyone asks I'll tell them that you wished to wash your face and hands of the dust from the road."

Urjora smiled gratefully and nodded. Veria left and returned with the water and a rag in minutes. When she entered the room again, Urjora had removed his robe and was dressed now only in a pair of dark trousers. He was surprisingly muscular for a mage, but any attractiveness Veria would have seen in him was extinguished by the layer of fur and other feline features. There was a gash across his left shoulder blade. It had been hastily covered in bandages to prevent any blood from showing through his robes. She set the basin of steaming water on the table and Urjora sat down beside it. Veria stood behind him and without a word she began to work on the wound, first removing the blood-soaked cloth stuck to it.

Some dried blood peeled away from the fur with it, taking some skin along. When the bandages were removed, Veria was faced with a gash that didn't seem very deep but was dark with dried blood and perhaps dirt. She soaked a rag in the hot water and began to clean the wound. Urjora winced a few times, his ears flatting against his skull. Veria tried to ignore it.  
"Urjora is curious," he said quietly, breaking the silence. "How does someone like you find themselves a slave to a bandit king?"  
Veria paused, not entirely wanting to discuss the issue. She continued cleaning the wound and said, "I am not certain Bedrel would care for me sharing my story with his guests."  
"Come now," He glanced back, and a bright green eye twinkled playfully at her. "You keep this wound secret for Urjora, and Urjora will keep our conversation secret in turn."  
"Well," Veria quietly as she rinsed the rag and filled it again with hot water. Urjora faced forward again and she returned to the wound. "It was morning when Bedrel and his men broke into my home. They had been hunting my father for some years. They killed him and took me as a prize. When I came to, I was here. He gave me a choice to either serve him or live in the dungeons as a prisoner. You can see what I chose."  
"You say it all so lightly," Urjora said. Veria wrung out the rag and picked up the bandages to begin dressing the wound.  
"What can I say?" She continued. "I never cared for my father, and I've had time to get used to the situation."  
"And what of your home? Do you not miss it?"  
"No. I was starting to get into a lot of trouble there anyway."

"Oh?" His ears pricked in interest. "What kind of trouble is this? Thievery? Perhaps you aren't so out place here after all, yes?"  
"No, nothing like that. I...well let's just say I had a nasty habit. I would have been found out eventually." Veria tightened the bandage firmly against the wound. Urjora winced slightly, then stretched his shoulder a little.  
"And what of Bedrel?" He asked, not turning to face her. "Does he mistreat you?"  
"He has made it very clear that he will should I misbehave."  
"You hate him." Veria was silent. He continued. "You don't hesitate to keep secrets from him, to help his rival, so you certainly are not loyal. Urjora senses bitterness in your tone when you speak of him." He stood. "He demands things of you, does he not? Often. Urjora knows Bedrel." He turned to face her. He lifted her chin slightly and searched her eyes. She went rigid at his touch.

Urjora looked deep into her eyes, like he was reading her. A small chuckle escaped his throat. "He hasn't broken you yet. Urjora is relieved."  
Veria stepped backward, and his hand fell to his side. "Why do you care?" She snapped.  
"Urjora has visited this hideout many times. Bedrel has had many young things like you. He reels them in, rewards them, then comes the lash. In the end their eyes are without light, without soul." He motioned toward her, stepping closer. "This one still has light, a fire even." He reached out and rested his palm against her cheek. His fur was thin and warm against her skin. "Urjora is happy one so beautiful is also strong enough to not give in."

Veria turned her face away and Urjora's hand fell gently to her shoulder. "One so beautiful," he continued. "Deserves a gentler touch than what Bedrel offers." Veria stepped backward and collided with a wall she wasn't expecting. Urjora's palm pressed against the wall beside her head and his face bent towards her opposite cheek. His breath was hot against her skin, and she felt his other hand rest against her waist.  
She gasped a breath of air and said hastily, "I am certain Bedrel wouldn't stand for this."  
"Both of us secrets from him," he whispered into her ear as his fingers wormed their way through her hair above her ear and along her scalp. "Urjora won't tell if you don't."

His hands cupped her face. His body pressed against her body, and his mouth intertwined with hers. His tongue worked itself around hers in an almost familiar way, but it was slightly longer than the average Nord's and had a most uncomfortable, rough texture. Veria convulsed reflexively and violently pushed him away.  
"No!" She said, then quieter, "No...wait..."  
Urjora's slightly surprised expression melted into fury, and he dealt a powerful blow to Veria's temple. She went sprawling, head spinning. She tried to cry out in pain but a furry hand clasped itself around her mouth in an iron grip. She tried to struggle, but Urjora's weight was too much for her to handle. He turned her around so she was lying on her back, and transferred his hands to her neck. His grip was tight enough to keep her voice down, but loose enough to allow her to breath, if only a little.

Urjora's face was twisted. All warmth and sweetness from before had vanished. His eyes were mad, and his mouth was a combination of a snarl and a smile.  
"Urjora _will_ make love to little Nord," he hissed. Veria reached out for anything to grab a hold of to use against him, but there was nothing in reach. "And little Nord will enjoy Urjora," he continued. Veria reached up towards him, but her fingers couldn't reach his neck and she wasn't strong enough to fight him. His fingers tightened slightly around her neck. She made a small choking noise.  
"Urjora will break little Nord's neck," he said. Her fingers clutched desperately at his sleeves. "If she tries anything." He stood and lifted her by the neck. In moments Veria felt herself pressed into the bed, her knees dangling over edge. Urjora tugged harshly at the fabric around her waist and the seams of the dress gave way. He wedged his hand under her knee and lifted her leg. She wrenched it from him and drove her heel towards him.

He managed to dodge but the kick landed squarely against his shoulder and he stumbled back long enough for Veria to tear herself from his grasp. Coughing and gasping for breath, she made a break for the door. Urjora made a grab for her legs, and she fell. Before she could stand again his arm wrapped around her neck, putting her in a choke hold.  
Urjora threw her towards the table and her head struck it loudly. The basin of now cold, bloody water clattered to the floor, and Veria's vision was swimming with shadows. Urjora grasped her hair and slammed her face into the table's surface.  
"Why must you be so difficult for Urjora?" He hissed. "Urjora tried to be reasonable. He tried to be pleasant." His hand slid down her bare thigh, brushing over the scar left by Bedrel when she first arrived. He whispered, "Little Nord just doesn't know what she wants."

He pressed against her. His fur scratched against her skin. She felt suffocated, trapped, and weak. She still gasped for air and couldn't find her voice. She didn't want this, she didn't want him. Not in the slightest. But he was doing it anyway. This was happening. There was nothing she could do to stop him.

Urjora cried out and his weight was removed from Veria. She stood and whipped around to see Urjora struggling with an assailant. Scaly green arms held his head tightly, dragging him across the floor. It was Tulian. The struggle continued. Urjora fought, and broke free of Tulian's grasp, but Tulian gripped his shoulder and landed a punch across his face. Then another, and another and another until Urjora fell again.  
Veria gripped the edges of the table to keep from falling. She was frozen. Urjora bolted for the door, but stopped just in time to avoid being impaled through the neck by a long sword. It was Bedrel, standing in the doorway. Urjora was trapped.

"Well, Urjora," Bedrel growled. "Since you seem strong enough to violate my property I think you're strong enough to begin our little talk. Our negotiations begin now." Bedrel glanced at Tulian. "Remove her," he barked angrily. Tulian took Veria's arm and quickly led her from the room, closing the door behind them. Veria wobbled precariously as she was led hastily down the hall, and Tulian put another arm around her to grasp her other forearm to keep her from falling. She couldn't find the words to say anything, and she lost all notion of thought.

The next thing she knew, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, covering her ruined dress. Tulian was dabbing her cheek with a wet cloth. Urjora's strike had seemingly drawn blood. She leaned away and took the cloth from him. He sat back in his chair and let her treat herself. They sat in silence for quite some time. Veria was falling back into her mind when a bowl of hot liquid was pressed against her mouth.  
She took the bowl from Tulian and drank from it, not tasting anything.

She glanced up at Tulian. He was idly inspecting his knuckles. They were bloody. Veria tried to say something, but the words came out of her throat as a small choking noise. Tulian looked up, and she cleared her throat to try again.  
"You were there," she said quietly. "How did you..."  
"I heard a ruckus," He said. "I came in to see what was going on."  
"But where you sleep is no where near the guest room."

Tulian hesitated, eyes shifting a little around the room. "I've never cared for Urjora. He's always been...well, untrustworthy. So I took to finding excuses to pass by that room tonight."  
"Did you know that Bedrel would assign me to stand near the room all night?"  
Tulian hesitated again. "Urjora...is a menace. He has inflicted things upon others that no one deserves...he...he is not..."  
Veria took his hand and gently pressed the warm cloth over a bloody knuckle.  
"Thank you," she said quietly.


End file.
